The Complexity of Dealing with the Holmeses
by thelittlebluepencil
Summary: Three 221B drabbles, Lestrade/Mycroft and Lestrade/Sherlock
1. Paranoia

**Paranoia**

* * *

The first time Lestrade got into the dark car, he had imagined to continue their discussion on Sherlock's safety and involvement in the investigation, the one they had started in his office. Apparently, they had finished with the talking, and Mycroft had very efficiently explained it to him with his tongue down Lestrade's throat.

Now, countless other clandestine encounters in the back of Mycroft's car later, he never questioned his intentions anymore, followed Mycroft everywhere he wanted, knowing they would ultimately lead to Mycroft's big bed and unprecedented pleasure.

This time, utterly satisfied, his lips still tingling with the fervour of their furtive, almost stolen kisses, he got off the car and into his building. He put the key in and opened the door, finding himself assaulted by the other Holmes, who grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him in for a voracious kiss. "You're late," he said, but then, instead of punishing him, kissed him again.

Mycroft had made him forget that they had just wrapped up a case.

A bit of panic settled in, triggering paranoia because these two were Sherlock and Mycroft _Holmes_, and did he really think he could fool them?

Didn't they notice all the little signs?

They were usually so observant, so were they pretending or were they _really_ so blind?


	2. Having the Last Word

**Having the Last Word**

* * *

Lestrade watched Sherlock bend over to examine the body. He shifted a bit, feeling uncomfortable, feeling the fabric of his shirt rub across his sensitive skin. He had red, raw, angry scratch marks on his back and shoulder, where Sherlock had clawed possession of him in their moment of passion, only hours before.

Lestrade alone knew what marks that scarf of Sherlock's hid, and what else was concealed under fine layers of expensive fabrics, or that Sherlock was wearing the same shirt as the previous night and Lestrade's aftershave.

Everyone else was too used to having Sherlock make the deductions for them to deduce anything from Sherlock's appearance.

_Thank God_.

Farther away another man observed the scene. He didn't stare at the body, however, his gaze studying the detective inspector. He took in his clothes, the way he stood, the distance he kept from Sherlock and they intimacy they shared when he didn't.

The man waited in the shadows until they were done with the investigation, then revealed himself. It was Mycroft Holmes.

He approached Sherlock and it didn't take him long to confirm his hypotheses. He turned and saw that Lestrade was still there, so he gestured him to join them.

Mycroft smiled at him with superiority. "Did you really think we wouldn't notice that you sleep with us both?"


	3. The Art of Making Compromises

**The Art of Making Compromises**

* * *

They were never going to share nicely.

Lestrade had known that from the beginning, but he had allowed them to indulge in the pretence of setting up a series of ground rules and a timetable and what were they thinking?

He had enjoyed their negotiations with the amusement and detachment of someone only marginally involved while he sipped the fine tea Mycroft had brewed for them. It was so good it would have been a waste to let it cool in its cup like the other two were doing.

He studied the overtly hostile way Sherlock was staring at his brother, then took in the apparent calm Mycroft manifested as he proposed alternate Wednesdays.

Could this situation become any more complicated? A ridiculous question, the answer was 'of course'. As soon as Sherlock decided he didn't agree on one of the points, or when Mycroft lost his patience with them. Perhaps even before that, when Lestrade decided to follow his egoistical whims, for a change.

Lestrade rolled his eyes at the arguing duo, put down his cup and saucer and got to his feet. He undid the cuffs of his shirt and left the room, undressing as he went upstairs.

When Sherlock and Mycroft noticed his absence they stopped quarrelling and followed him upstairs.

Their perfect compromise waited in the bedroom.


End file.
